


truth, refresh my broken mind

by pendules



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-19
Updated: 2011-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:39:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendules/pseuds/pendules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The things Mark wants (and those he deserves) change along the way. <i>He's thinking about being at the centre, creating from the centre, instead of pressing his nose to the window.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	truth, refresh my broken mind

It didn't start with Erica. It didn't start with the Winklevosses and the condescending bullshit that had become the only language they spoke to which he'd spat a sarcastic "You'd do that for me?" dripping with thinly-veiled bitterness. It didn't start with Wardo and his fucking need to please everyone, his trust and his attention, neither of which he'd ever deserved, and the way he treated him like a goddamned human being, the way he saw so many things Mark had tried to bury. It started back in junior high, the first time someone looked at him and said, " _Geek_ ," like it was the dirtiest insult he could muster.

He still remembers that kid's name. Sometimes, he'll type it into Facebook just to see the latest inane update to his pathetic life.

 

Years after that, he hears, "You deserve recognition?", humouring him, almost mocking, and thinks nothing's really changed.

 

Because there's not really any point to it, to being smart, being _smarter_. There's no point about dreaming about the life you could be living, the one you deserve, when you'd never fit into it anyway.

Wardo says he got punched by the Phoenix, and he's not jealous. Not really. Everything's always bigger from the outside. Maybe he's wishing that Wardo'd end up having his dreams, whatever they are, casually crushed by reality too. But he's not jealous. He's thinking bigger than that tonight.

He's thinking about being at the centre, creating from the centre, instead of pressing his nose to the window.

He resents it, but for some reason, always, he can't make himself care, can't bring himself to lie to make him feel better. Can't stop the "It probably _was_ a diversity thing," from tumbling out. But still can't look at his face while he says it.

 

Lying to him, afterwards, is the hardest thing he's ever had to do.

He thinks about calling him back, saying, _Don't. Don't sign those papers. Hate me anyway (you knew this wouldn't last, not like this, I know that you always knew that), but don't sign them. Don't fuck your life up over some asshole you decided to be nice to once._

It's kind of fucking stupid that he realises that he might just love him right then.

He wants Wardo; he wants him to be there. But there are other things, things he's wanted longer.

 

He sends him a message after the settlement is done.

 _None of it ever felt like a victory. Maybe that day in the dorm room when we went live. But after... I never wanted it to be about me, because I didn't deserve it, after all._

 _You did, though. You deserve to be a part of something great._

 _Your name is back on the masthead, where it belongs._

 _I won't contact you again._

 

 _Mark,_

 _You did. You did deserve it._

 

He reads it with a beer bottle pressed to his lips, thinks, _I never deserved you, though._

 

They talk, on and off, over the next few years. First, about business mostly. Then, Mark starts telling him funny stories about things and people at the office, and the celebrities he's managed to meet (and how they're _even stupider in real life, Wardo, I swear_ ), and the latest charity he's thinking about donating to (Wardo helps him decide on a few of those). It's like having a friend you only talk to on birthdays or major holidays, but instead of updating them on the actual significant changes in your life, you make small talk like you're still back at school and meeting for lunch, trading details of a not particularly eventful morning.

Their lives really aren't that eventful, though. Wardo's in Singapore, working on some boring business stuff which Mark genuinely has no interest in. And Mark's at Facebook. If Wardo really wants to know what's happening, he can just go online, or get sent reports from the latest shareholders' meeting.

It's just random stuff, nothing real about them, and Mark starts wondering if his face has changed, what his life is really like, if he has friends or girlfriends or whatever, if he _has_ a life, really.

 _He deserves it_ , he thinks.

He keeps waiting for Wardo to stop answering his calls. He keeps waiting for him to say, "Mark, I can't do this anymore. It's time to move on."

He never does, though.

 

Wardo's on his porch. For some strange reason, Wardo's on his porch. In Palo Alto. He looks exactly the same, his shirt sleeves rolled up, jacket slung over the shoulder bag he's carrying, tie lost somewhere along the way.

"I meant to call. Sorry. I stopped by the office first. It's kind of insane, isn't it? Surprised you weren't there though. Have you finally loosened your tyrannical grip?" And he's joking. Really. He's not just there, and acting like it hasn't been years since they've seen each other, but he's joking.

Mark stares.

"Why — Wardo —" Wardo smiles a little as Mark says his name, looking vaguely nostalgic, and that's too much, really. "You're supposed to hate me."

"I did," he admits. "For a while. Then I realised you were doing enough of that yourself. Even if no one else did. Surely you knew that. You've been talking to me all this time."

"But it wasn't. It wasn't anything — It wasn't anything about that. Or me."

"It didn't matter. I knew that's what you needed."

"What? I don't even understand what you're saying anymore. I don't understand why you're here."

"Mark," he says, soft but firm. "Mark, I can't — I can't love you if you won't let me."

"Why do you even want to, Wardo?" And it's way more helpless than Mark ever, ever wants to sound.

Wardo laughs at that for some odd reason. Mark stares at him again.

"I don't. I don't want to, Mark. My life would be a hell of a lot less difficult if I didn't. But I do."

"Okay." He really has no idea what to say to that. It makes him feel a lot of things, all at once, and he wants to — he does — he wants to say it. Because he's okay with the truth, and Wardo would be too ( _please. please._ ). But he can't express it. The words won't come. The truth won't, for the first time in years.

And he's just standing there, waiting for him to leave.

Only he doesn't.

"Just. Mark. Just — let me. _Let me_ —"

Then Wardo kisses him. And Mark does.


End file.
